There was a momentary pause, when Mrs. Lesly, anxious to conciliate by returning to the subject she perceived gave most interest, enquired-- "Is Lucy your eldest?" "Oh, dear no! Caroline is the eldest, Selina second, and Lucy the youngest." "But I think you have one more, have you not?" said Mrs. Lesly. "How can you forget how many children your own sister has?" said Mrs. Villars. "My memory is getting feeble, and you must excuse me," replied Mrs. Lesly anxiously, "my forgetfulness arises from no want of affection; but I have not seen you for a year or two now." "I had forgotten," returned Mrs. Villars, "how time flies. I really must write oftener to you, and keep up your knowledge of us. Well, there is my Maria--but, poor child, I am in despair with her--so unfortunate." "Not ill, I hope?" enquired Mrs. Lesly. "No, no--that could be cured--a doctor might cure that; but this, nothing can cure. She is ugly--positively ugly--by the side of her sisters at least; and more than that, she is ungraceful. I have tried the best academy in the town, but nothing will do her any good--such a contrast to the rest, she never will settle I fear." Mabel glanced at Amy, who was drinking in her aunt's words with the eager curiosity natural to a child, and fearing the effects of this worldly conversation upon her young sister, she persuaded Lucy to come with them into the garden. Lucy put her arm in Mabel's, whilst Amy watched the movement jealously. "Here is a lovely peep at the hills," said Mabel, leading their guest to one of the prettiest parts of the garden, where a stone seat was placed near a break in the trees, commanding a view of the country beyond. Here they seated themselves, looking for a short while, in silence, on the landscape, which the setting sun rendered still more lovely. Had Mabel expected any fine remark to follow this momentary pause in the conversation, she would have been disappointed, for Lucy's next enquiry was whether there were many nice people in the neighbourhood. "Yes," said Mabel. "Mr. and Miss Ware are very nice people." "Who are they?" asked Lucy. "Our rector and his sister." "Is he unmarried?" enquired Lucy, with increasing interest. "Yes," replied Mabel, smiling, "but not very young." "But still marriageable, I suppose?" "Barely," said Mabel, "at least, I do not think he would consider himself so now. Why, he must be nearly seventy." "Then who was that fine young man that was walking down the road just now, with light whiskers, and a military air. I did not expect to see such a handsome, _distingué_ looking young man down in the country here." "That is Mr. Ware's nephew," said Mabel. "Oh! then he does live here--what is his name?" "Captain Clair; he is only here for a short time, for his health," replied Mabel; "but how could you tell he had light whiskers?" "Because he passed while we were at dinner, so that I had a good look at him," said Lucy, half blushing.